#this isn't enough of an edit for me to use the edit tags

[wardensantoineandevka]

the way Evka and Antoine immediately look at each other after getting chewed out by the First Warden is one of the funniest things to me

[greypistacchio]

He literally said "God loves us ALL" and his first words were about peace, unity and dialogue, I reckon this is as progressive as a Pope gets!! thank fuck!! 😭🫶🏻

EDIT.- I didn't say he was woke or progressive, I said as woke or progressive AS IT GETS considering, mostly, that there was insane pressure from conservative factions within society & the Church to pick someone who would undo everything Francis did that was even remotely decent. Were there more progressive candidates? Yes, I'm sure, but do you SERIOUSLY think that they stood a chance after Francis!? He was seen as a Communist FFS, and his successor was definitely NOT going to be someone who might turn the human rights up a notch. Sorry to bring the mood down, but them choosing an actually progressive Pope was about as likely as the ESC committee kicking Israhell out of the competition.

It's in THAT regard that I'm relieved, because yeah, the guy is far from perfect and has queerphobic views (which are literally in line with the views upheld by the Catechism of the Catholic Church, mind you). But for fuck's sake. Right now we don't get to protest that the new head of one of the most regressive institutions on Earth isn't as progressive as we'd like, alright? He was one of the lesser evils, so I would say that that's enough reason to be glad that we didn't get a turbofascist Pope. For YEARS I've been hearing conservative family members pray that we'd get someone who would "undo the Communist disgrace this Antichrist of a Pope is putting the Church through" (I shit you not, they were actually calling Francis that), so frankly...

I might come across as overly excited for this dude, but in truth I'm just relieved that we weren't hit with a Hitlerinni McBigoted kind of guy given the Church's funny tendency to make up for the odd "progressive" Pope (such as Francis) by picking grotesquely conservative successors from the deepest pits of the far right 🤡

EDIT 2.- As some users pointed out in the tags and made me aware of, he's lived in Peru for approximately 40 years and received the Peruvian citizenship. Since I'm not from Peru, I don't think it's my place to decide whether he is or isn't "Peruvian enough", but congrats Peru on scoring a Pope! 🇵🇪

[oikarma]

sports car

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the one where lando gets outed for having a crush on his teammate's little sister.

a/n: bro it's been stuck in my head for a solid week now

liked by vogue and others

yourinstagram my vogue beauty secrets tutorial is out 🪽 all products used are linked below! thank you so much for this opportunity, was insane to me when i was informed of it and still very much is!

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user1 not fair. why is everyone on insta a freaking model

user2 where's the gold necklace from? thanks queen love you <3

yourinstagram it's from brandname brandname 😉 y/n piastri repping our gear? this calls for a c...o...l...l...a........

user3 drop the skincare routine too

user4 y/n are you ever going to a grand prix?

user5 she was at oscar's f1 debut user4 yeah but never again user4 she shouldn't be too busy as a part-time influencer like

vogue we're so glad you agreed 🤍

yourinstagram kisses!

user6 my gf (real)

user7 wait. wait. why is a vogue beauty secrets video title the way i find out y/n is a formula 1 driver's sister?

user8 well tbf she doesn't usually use her full name, probably not to seem like she's mooching off his success yk user9 no girl you're good i realized that a month ago when someone posted an edit of her and tagged it with her full name

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram best brother 🧡 yay points

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user1 she took the comments about her not showing up to his races personally

user2 wait. y/n is his sister?? user3 oscar you thought you ate

user4 forget f1 drivers i want THIS GIRL

user5 hope you had fun !! thank you for taking a photo with me and my friends liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram i did and i hope you did too 🫶 no worries, you both were v polite and absolutely stunning user6 she's so sweet aww

oscarpiastri I think this is your first post without any selfies. Congrats.

yourinstagram are we not partially the same people yourinstagram i thought you were smart? oscarpiastri I don't think that's how it works.

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liked by yourinstagram and others

lando on the move

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user1 i was not familiar with your game

user2 lando whoreizz more like? dang.

user3 I AM GOING FERAL NO ONE CAN HOLD ME BACK

user4 wait guys y/n piastri liked this 😭

user5 i pray the next time i accidentally make an idiot of myself on live stream my crush will notice me too user6 lmaooo help

user7 who are you posing for? y/n?

oscarpiastri Attention whore yourinstagram the girls are fighting!! user8 this cannot be real. polite piastri just called his teammate an attention whore user9 y/n u are so real for that

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liked by badgalriri, lando and others

fentybeauty Y/N Piastri is the new face of Fenty Beauty. @/yourinstagram

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 i just want to be a nepo baby.

user2 well y/n isn't really a nepo baby user3 nepo sister? user4 most of her image is built around her as js herself i think it's only recently (after her appearance at a gp) that people realized she was oscar piastri's sister cause they don't look alike and she usually only goes by y/n

user5 STUNNERRR

user6 am allowing myself to be influenced

user7 be so fr right now what is lando doing in the likes

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

lando austin, tx

tagged: oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell

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user1 oscar? in a cowboy hat? oh i folded my ovaries exploded i swore i was wearing clothes

lando i think you've got a fan, mate @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri That's very kind of you

user2 the only time america serves

user3 is when a fucking brit comes over user4 live laugh love lando

user5 good luck at COTAS!! papaya army will be cheering for you *liked by lando

user6 soooo lando have you shot your shot yet?

user7 pardon? user6 i mean has he officially tried to hit on y/n yet user7 no way. she's too nonchalant to date him. piastri siblings do be the coolest crushes fr

mclaren see you, sheriff

lando this town ain't big enough for us two

user8 love to see oscar hanging out w landos friend group

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liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourinstagram you taste like the 4th of july

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user1 Y/NNN ARE YOU GOING TO COTAS??

user2 she must be i don't think she's ever been to the us before user3 queen y/n in mclaren paddock i'm calling it

user4 hold up am i reaching but lando posted burger joint milkshakes and she posted a burger joint and

user5 i really hate to break your bubble but there's literally no evidence to suggest they were at the SAME burger joints user6 its america its all fast food.

user7 so stunningg

oscarpiastri So you ignore your debts and post instagrams

yourinstagram what debt 😭 i paid for your concert tickets no?? oscarpiastri I paid for my concert tickets yourinstagram well we paid for each other's concert tickets yourinstagram you're jokign right do you hate me that much oscarpiastri I just wanted you to respond to me yourinstagram okay 😔 sorry brotha

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liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram came to support the fam

tagged: mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando

mclaren we are so glad you did 🧡

yourinstagram the teddy is so cute i'll sleep with it every night! tysm for the wonderful welcome user1 aww

oscarpiastri I'm emotional now. Get me a tissue, please. I can't believe my sister cares about me.

yourinstagram the combination of perfect punctuation and capitalization really hit the mark. user2 he's so silly user3 oscar bfr you're glad she's finally started coming to ur races often

lando am i the fam

yourinstagram gosh i hope we're not related that would make it weird user4 well you guys are pretty close to alabama liked by yourinstagram user4 HELP??

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liked by mclaren and others

lando soon.

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user1 ? soon ? as in ? coming soon ?

user2 bro if he looked at me like that

user3 oscar can you explain your boyfriend's cryptic captions

yourinstagram soon.

user4 HELLO? user5 did she just acknowledge his existence user6 tf you mean soon girl lando soon. yourinstagram soon. lando soon. user7 they need help oscarpiastri You see what I have to put up with every day of my life?

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram i think you know what this is

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user1 y/n and tate?

user2 the crossover we never knew we needed

user3 WAITTT YK HOW TATE HAS HER NEW MV AND SHE'S TEASING A MCLAREN DRIVER WHAT IF OSCAR OR LANDO'S DATING HER??

user4 i like the way your mind works user5 that's so awkward for her lol if it's oscar "cool you're shagging my brother" user6 or maybe it's lando probably? because he posted soon on his instagram user7 but doesn't lando have a crush on y/n? or is it not confirmed user8 girl idk

user9 baddieeees

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liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram SPORTS CAR.

everybody say THANK YOU TATIANA ♡ seriously, what did i deserve to get to know her? she has put out a killer album, danced her ass off in stilettos, and did so during a non-stop tour. now she's starting another one. respect, a whole cartload of it.

but a little recap: obviously, tate wanted a driver in her music video about a SPORTS CAR. lando's team was up for it. tate (being respectful, she literally had no reason to do this whatsoever except for that fact that she's an amazing person and so very considerate) asked me to film it with lando instead. for "chemistry' and blah but again, THANK YOU TATIANA we say in unison.

hope you enjoy the music video and the song!

tagged: lando, tatemcrae

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tatemcrae there was no need to write a whole paragraph but i appreciate your recognition ♥️ considering an acting career anytime? love you loads

yourinstagram while the answer is yes, unfortunately i don't think anyone else will be considering it for me 🤪 tatemcrae also you fine asf yourinstagram u too bae rahhh user1 i love them sm

user2 that's so nice of her

user3 like i'm sure y/n would've been fine with her but giving up an MV for an actor's gf is crazy user4 i mean...it paid off. the chemistry is INSANE user5 need a man to hold me how lando holds y/n

user6 oscar jack piastri, how are you holding up?

oscarpiastri Have been avoiding the video. Have not been entirely successful. user7 LMAO poor boy lando sorry mate oscarpiastri You're not sorry in the slightest yourinstagram just close your eyes

lando thank you tatiana for orchestrating a music video for me and my girlfriend you're the goat

tatemcrae i think you're just glad you got to hard launch her this way, but you're welcome user8 y/n never called him her boyfriend BUT GUYS THiS iS CONFIRMATION THEY ARE DATING lando yes i'm her boyfriend she's my girlfriend. in case the making out and monkey business did not make that clear! user9 "monkey business" i cant anymore with him ✋

lando @/yourinstagram mommy? sorry-mommy? sorry-

yourinstagram shameless, i tell you. shameless. do it again.

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a/n: WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

[roboticchibitan]

Today I'm going to talk about a form of radical resistance that anyone, no matter their situation, can engage in: cultivating hope.

Are you filled with hopelessness and despair at the state of the world? I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is you've fallen for a tool of the status quo. Despair freezes us. It keeps us from imagining and working towards a better world. Despair is easy, because it means we have no reason to take action to make things better. Capitalism? Our oppressors? They want you hopeless for a reason. Because you're easier to control that way.

The good news is! There's a lot of very real reasons for hope. However, hope is something you have to cultivate. It takes work. It is a radical act. It is looking at the status quo and going "actually, no. I refuse."

Maybe you can't risk losing your job to unionize your workplace. Or maybe you're an oppressed minority who can't risk going to protests because our criminal justice system is racist. But cultivating hope in yourself is just as radical an act of resistance as those two things. It is another form of imagining and working towards a better world.

It's not as flashy as starting a union or going to a protest, true. Maybe it feels selfish, like you're only helping yourself. But that's not true. It's a lot harder to help others when you, yourself, are frozen by despair. By working on yourself, you are making it easier for you to help others, in whatever form that takes for you.

For me, since I started my hopepunk practice I have been more able to engage in activism, even if I no longer post about it. Before calls to action froze me. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of our problems that I was unable to address any of them.

Since I've started cultivating hope in myself, I've unfrozen enough that I was able to choose the causes that matter to me and put my energy there. I engage in more charitable donations and political actions now than I did before. I am happier and also helping others more than I did before.

Cultivating hope in yourself is hard at first. You feel defeated before you even start. But you start putting work in and you find a little hope. And then a little more. And a little more. And then, suddenly. It snowballs and you're doing better than you have in years, and hope comes easier to you now.

If you don't know where to start, go follow @hopepunk-humanity @hope-for-the-planet @afeelgoodblog and @reasonsforhope or follow the hopepunk tag

There's also things like the good news network, who have a daily email they send out with a handful of positive news stories. Some of them I find kinda dumb and shallow like "lost dog returned after 3 years" type stories. But there's also a lot about scientific advancments in green energy, medical care, etc that I find helpful for cultivating hope. Did you know about the CRISPR gene editing tool that's being used to cure incurable illnesses? I didn't! And now I do! afeelgoodblog also runs a substack "best news of last week" newsletter every Monday that I find has stories with more substance, tho it is US focused.

Despair isn't helping anyone, especially not you. Engage in a radical act and start cultivating hope in yourself. You deserve to leave that despair behind, and in the process, you are directly going against the powers that have decided we are easier to control if we are miserable.

[dollypopup]

Nope. You don't get to do that.

Look at the post you made. 7 likes, the majority of which are faceless, nameless blogs, one reblog you yourself did, and 88 comments of discourse. I ask you again, as I asked in said comments- where are you when actual sexism, namely against Antonia, is taking place? In your own room. On your own blog.

Evidently, making passive aggressive 'I'm so innocent, people just lack reading comprehension, things have nuance' responses instead of saying 'hey, we call women by their names here' or 'hey, there's no need to bring Antonia into this discourse and hate on her here' or even 'hey, don't spread defamatory, unproven rumors on my post' in a direct response to rude ass comments people left. So my point stands- where are you when women are actually being talked down on? Eating popcorn in the corner, it seems.

You want to come into the tags and spout things about how "They [Luke fans] are criticizing the women but are so far gone for this man who they do not know who even go as far to bring the women down to prop up this guy" when you have Nic stans, on YOUR side, in YOUR comments, in HER name hating on him and his partner openly. Hating on a woman they do not know with unproven rumors.

And you're gonna. . .what? Keep teetering up on that high horse? Take some damn accountability. You made this post, tagged Luke in, claimed to be objective when you're a Nic stan and have middling at BEST feelings about him, and incited more hateful anons in our inboxes, more discourse that didn't need to happen, more hatred in your own comments against him, in calls to what? What did you hope to achieve? Luke fans aren't the ones hating on Nicola. Which is evidenced in your own post.

I wanna give a shoutout to @intrusivethoughtwon who actually said 'hey, don't bring Antonia into this and don't belittle her' because they had the guts to do what you could not: actually take a stand against sexism in your fandom, even if it was coming from someone on your side.

I would repeat your point, that it is OH SO heartbreaking to see that these women (y'all) have gotten so far gone that you do not see what you are doing, but you do know what you're doing. Don't feign ignorance about it, now.

Long Post Ahead Beware:

I am back there is something heavy on my heart. As a woman who loves Bridgerton both the books and show, and a fan of all the couples but who's heat has a soft spot for polin. There is something I could not help but notice when it comes to the fans and Nicola and Luke Newton who plays Penelope and Colin a.k.a Polin in the show. Let me start off by saying both Nicola and Luke are part taking and doing something I myself disagree with and personally am not a fan of which is they are dating these young adults starting when Luke's girlfriend was 22 and Nicola's boyfriend was 24 while both Luke and Nicola are well into their 30s. Now again this is my own personally feelings with that I know some people don't seem to care because everyone involved are adults and I will respect their feeling and opinions on that. But this seems to go deep as I have been noticing fans while both Luke and Nicola are both doing the same thing dating these young people, I've noticed that it is Nicola who people seem to take issue with for doing that while they make sure to either ignore any of Lukes misgivings or tell people to keep it in their group chat. They are criticizing the women but are so far gone for this man who they do not know who even go as far to bring the women down to prop up this guy. Any award recognition or praise Nicola got for season three or is getting and its Luke should've to as soon as she is getting these praises. These women are coddling this grown man who shouldn't be above criticism, who no one should be both of these actors you can respectfully criticize. However, that is not what I am seeing, yes, I know that Luke got some negativity throw his way last summer BUT there were people tweeting #weloveyouLuke or Luke Newton deserves an apology. They are not doing that for Nicola any type of complement someone may give her praise for her work or something someone like that Nicola said or did is considered putting her on a pedestal, which I'm not denying that people do that for her or other celebrities because that is the world we live in. But it is so heartbreaking to see that these women have gotten so far gone that they do not see what they are doing, themselves are putting Luke on a pedestal while at the same time making sure no one does that for Nicola.

[ilium-ilia]

All Yours

Paring: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Synopsis: Your friends always tease you for being a virgin, so you decide to go home with someone they point out in the pub. Kyle seems kind enough, but he isn't very keen on letting you go.

Tags: smut, oral sex, PIV sex, virginity loss, hymen breaking, alcohol, possessiveness, implied break in, a hint of non-con touching at the end, Kyle is a little barmy but we can look past that, i did not edit a single word in this i had an idea and the energy to write it and that's it.

Liquor coats your tongue the same way it always does—alluring and biting. It sinks its teeth into the wet muscle and burrows down your esophagus until its created a lovely hibernaculum in which to rest in while it festers in your bloodstream. 

Pain, and comfort. 

That’s what tonight seems to be comprised of. As are most of your nights, these days. Bored fingers tap along the bartop as your friends indulge one another with debauched stories of their sex lives all while you smile and nod as if you understand the feelings they describe or the frustrations of laying in bed with someone who fucks like a cactus in a wind storm. 

Their gazes aren’t lost on you. It’s only natural for their eyes to wander over to the only virgin at the table. They look at you adoringly, as if you’re some mythical creature they often don’t happen across—something to be gawked at. Mortification joins the alcohol in your stomach as you tell yourself to ignore their gentle cooing and playful taunts. 

It’s not that deep. 

But it feels deep. It’s an abyss that swallows you whole—this idea of sex. They tell you it’s infinitesimal yet every time you attempt to wade through the waters you find your fingers clawing through the air as you attempt to keep yourself from drowning. You’d like to toss away your virginity just so it no longer hangs over your head like some thunder cloud ready to dump rain on your body, but you can’t quite get yourself to brave the blood that would follow after you cut it free from your body. 

What about him? He looks like a good lay. 

They point towards a man on the other side of the pub. He’s made himself comfortable at a table meant for two as his fingers choke the bottom of his pint. Short cropped hair lies close to his skull in thick curls while earthy brown eyes focus on the football game roaring on the television on the wall above him. His skin looks velvety smooth even with the faint scar on his cheek, and his face looks kind beneath the glow of the monitor. 

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t attractive. Between his broad shoulders and chiseled hands, he’s the poster boy for the models they used to plaster pictures of in the magazines meant for teen girls you used to read as a kid. 

He looks lonely. 

You echo the sentiment when you approach his table with pursed lips, already awaiting your rejection. He looks up at you and his lips pull into a wide smile over pearly white teeth—you don’t notice how sharpy they are through the sheer beauty that beams before you. 

“I might be,” he says, indulging your poor attempt at a pickup. His eyes flicker to the seat across from him for a short moment before he nods at you. “Gonna fix that for me, love?” 

His name is Kyle. You feared that the moment you sat down with him and he opened his mouth, he would do something to make you regret wandering over here in the first place, but he doesn’t. Each syllable that rolls off of his tongue is silky smooth with a voice with just enough vocal fry to haunt your dreams. He buys you another drink when you’re finished with your first one, and you find yourself giggling with him more than you ever do with your friends (though, it remains to be seen if it’s because of him, or your intoxication). 

Wanna get out of here? 

His apartment is quaint. Various video game consoles lie in perfect organization beneath his TV stand, and a few of the controllers rest on the coffee table next to the remote. Each counter glistens beneath the stove light, save for a few crumbs from a sandwich he had eaten for lunch earlier that day. There is a faint aroma of bleach, sandalwood and—

—iron? 

Kyle does not give you much time to mull over the state of his apartment before he’s got you buried in the duvet on his bed. Like a rocking boat in the ocean, you follow his whims as he strips you bare before him, body on display in the pallid light of his bedroom. Anticipation rears its head as your stomach churns. You’ve seen the films. You know how this is supposed to go. 

Still, you are pleasantly surprised when you find Kyle’s head between your thighs. He curiously thumbs over your clit a few times just to watch your body jolt, and he grins as you throw your head back into his pillows. When his mouth replaces his thumb, you feel your desire pound against your chest, ready to burst free into the cold air around you. 

His tongue swipes over you, not even bothering to temper you into the pure pleasure he plunges you into. All his efforts are focused onto one spot, the very spot that pulses with needy want as your hips twitch and buck against him. He chuckles, then hums lowly as his hands grip your hips to roll you along the flat of his tongue. Desperate fingers push at the back of his head. None of your friends described sex like this—wet and lewd. None of them ever talked about dancing on the tongue of their lovers like you are now. 

“Kyle, that- that feels so good,” you croon. 

He groans when you say his name. It bleeds between your lips like a hushed confession—a secret between you and God. His tongue quickens along your clit and the hinge of your jaw begins to tighten. He does not say anything to you when you begin to babble further. Kyle continues to devour—to eat—to consume—

Something snaps within you. Parichord frays then slices, leaving behind nothing but searing marks across your skin as endorphins numb your brain and sizzle throughout your legs. When your thighs close around Kyle's head, he does not push them aside for breath, but rather he allows you to ride this wave until your muscles melt around him and his tongue ceases to move. 

“You taste so sweet. Like tangerine and blood,” he murmurs as he pulls away. His comparison makes your head spin—and blood—but you push it out of your mind as you witness him sit back on his haunches and remove his shirt in one slick, practiced motion. Soft abs roll and swell with his breathing as his fingers begin to prod along your pussy. “You look so pretty like this. Nothing but a mess for me, aren’t you? Yeah, there-” 

You witness in real time as something ensnares Kyle's brain into silence. Eyes widening, his fingers hardly press into your entrance before they meet resistance. Pulling away from you, he puts his hands on the underside of your knees before he pushes your legs apart. 

“Hold your legs out for me. Yeah, just like that, love,” he orders. Trembling fingers hook underneath your thighs as you hold yourself apart for him. You stare up at him from between your knees with curious eyes. “Is that… fuck…” 

Slender fingers prod at your pussy once more, and you feel the cold air rush to meet the wetness on your skin as he inspects your cunt. You watch the soft brown of his eyes morph from wet autumn leaves into a dark void as he prods against some thin membrane just at your entrance. 

“You’re a virgin?” he asks. 

Embarrassment cuts through you like a dull blade. “You can tell?” 

“Your hymen is still intact.” Kyle doesn’t look at you. Instead, he continues to spread you apart, eyes locked onto your pussy. “You sure you want me to take this, love? To take you?” 

Your hips shift. Gathering as much spare courage as you’re able to find, you nod. “Please, Kyle.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to fish his cock from his trousers. Something whispers at you to ask him about a condom, but your mind is thrown into silence the moment he slaps himself against your clit. He’s thick—uncut and desperately leaking, he rubs himself over your cunt before he pushes himself into you. 

The burn is faint at first, but it progresses from flickering embers into a roaring fire. Kyle watches with dilated eyes as his cock splits and tears your hymen. The thin tissue weeps with trace amounts of blood, and he finds his throat growing tight as your cunt begins to constrict around him. 

“Kyle, that-” 

“I know,” he interrupts. “But fuck look at that. Never seen anything like that. Like you. You’re taking it so well, love, I just… there.” He bottoms out with a sharp thrust that has your nails digging into the back of your thighs. Dropping your legs, you slap your hands over your mouth to hold back a wail. Kyle falls forward, draping your body with his as he begins to shallowly thrust into you. “I’m not gonna be able to get enough of this.” 

The foreign sensation ripples through you, stunning you into silence as Kyle’s cock pistons through your cunt. You feel the very ridge of his cockhead, the swell of his balls against your rump, even the trimmed hair on his pubic bone rubbing against your clit. The very world begins to fall away beneath you, and your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. You feel the curve of his lips as he grins against your throat. 

“All mine. All fucking mine,” he repeats as his teeth nip beneath your jaw. A tense thumb makes its way to your clit once more just as you feel his hips begin to stutter and jolt. “Say it. All fucking mine, aren’t you love?” 

“Yes!” you wail. “All yours, Kyle. Please, please let me come!” 

He greedily times his orgasm with yours, and it isn’t long before you’re constricting around him and he’s spilling his cum into you with several throbbing pulses of his cock. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your muscles go slack as he continues to shallowly thrust into you, grunting each time he bottoms out, refusing to waste a single drop. 

“All mine.”

Kyle’s mantra only repeats in your mind for a little while after that night. He had tenderly cleaned you up in the shower before lovingly taking you to work the next morning—then, you vanished. Into thin air. Dissipated into nothing more than a tricky zephyr between his fingers. 

The two of you were nothing more than a fling. 

That’s what you thought. 

When your confidence grows enough to take another stranger home from the bar with you, you shouldn’t be surprised to find Kyle already waiting in your apartment when the two of you arrive, but you are. He sits comfortably on your sofa with narrowed eyes as the door swings open, and your jaw goes slack at the sight of him. 

Baby, who’s this? 

Your one-night-stand rushes out of the door behind you, muttering something about being the other man, leaving you to stand in front of Kyle, trembling as if you’re out in the cold. 

“Kyle? What the hell are you doing here?” you ask. “Did you-? How did you even know I lived here? Seriously, what the fuck?” 

“Did you not mean it?” Kyle’s eyes are severe as he stands. He stalks forward with raised brows until your back is pressed against the door and his arms are on either side of your head. “When you said you were all mine, did you not mean it?” 

Shaking your head, your bottom lip begins to tremble. “I don’t understand.” 

His hands snake down until he’s palming at you through your pants. Gasping at the pressure, your eyes squeeze shut as his teeth nip at the side of your cheek, and you wince. 

“You let me take this. Your virginity. It’s mine now. You’re mine now.” His lips brush away the pain on your cheek with a chaste kiss. “Say it to me, love.” 

Fear pierces through your heart at the deep growl of authority in his tone. He has you trapped, caged in his arms like you’re nothing more than an animal. Knowing you have no other choice, your throat bobs as you swallow. 

“I… I’m all yours, Kyle.” 

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[chester-i-hardly-know-her]

canonically what ARE the statement summaries for episodes that don't have it in the audio as part of a statement. eye? web? nothing textually and i'm reading into it too much?

i'm tempted to say eye for the wording at least because i think the eye is what lets jon Know the summaries before he reads things in the case of normal statements he didn't research, so the wording being granted by the eye has precedent. then again it's a caption for the audio files on an audience end which is more in the web's domain.

but if the wording at least is the eye, like. would it be using the pronouns jon is thinking about internally after these thoughts? because i don't think the eye would be inferring that, inferring is very much not what it does

i also have thoughts on the jokes about the eye just giving jon information about himself, but in a more messed up way than i think most people write it, given this lack of insight (this is because it is a joke when most people write it. but taking things that are jokes and thinking about the Horrors Implications of them is my idea of a fun saturday night)

i just don't think the eye "you who watch and know and understand none" would be able to figure gender out for someone, and i just don't think complete knowledge with a lack of understanding would make for very healthy help in introspection in the area of messy identity, but it would definitely be interesting to see Knowing interplay with jon thinking about this stuff

i know “their” being used in reference to jon in the description of 132 is non-intentional/canonical, but the fact that it's right after 131 with helen's line “if i am an it, archivist, then what does that make you?" does allow for fun interpretions of the interplay between jon's gender and his relationship with being human at this point if you view at it as part of the text. and one day i will think about this enough to actually do something with it. something something jon reflecting on helen saying that later and it sending them into a small thought spiral about identity in general that they proceed to not mention to anyone, but maybe internally their view of gender has changed.

[hippiegoth97]

Random Spencer Reid Thought #2

A/N: Fucking FINALLY got something written for once. Enjoy some crumbs, lovely readers <3

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, virgin!Spencer Reid, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, fingering, groping, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dirty talk, rough sex, fluff

Some tags: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @hotwritergf @bloodibambiidoll

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Spence?" You ask Reid as you're straddling his thighs, the two of you naked in his bed as you have been so many times before. Although, it's different this time, because he's just asked you to take his virginity from him.

"Yes. I'm ready." He replies softly, sitting up against the headboard, his hands resting at your waist. He's brought you here on many occasions, though up until recently the most you'd do is make out until your lips were sore.

He'd met you at a book shop a few months ago, reaching for the same first edition of some dusty old classic. Sherlock Holmes, maybe, or perhaps even Moby Dick. He doesn't quite remember (and his unmatched memory captures everything), as he was far too focused on the gorgeous, soft hand that brushed against his own in grabbing for the book. A shared laugh soon followed, light and airy, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your beauty enraptured him instantly, and he nearly tripped over himself to give you his number and await your call to plan a date of some sort. It was so unlike him to do so, it made him seriously question his sanity for an hour or two. But after a conversation with you that lasted hours into the night when he returned home that evening, he was pleased to find he'd made a very wise decision.

Fast forward to the last month or so, and things have rapidly progressed from hand-holding and passionate kisses to touching various naked areas with your hands and mouths. You've been patient, guiding Spencer along each stepping stone towards intercourse, encouraging him, exploring him in every way imaginable. Despite your insistence (and multiple comments he receives from certain coworkers of his), he's never exactly found himself to be attractive. Not really.

He's spent most of his life a full step ahead of everyone else in terms of education and career, leaving him considerably younger than most of his peers. That fact alone has made it rather difficult to experience a lot of 'firsts' in regards to intimacy. He's been kissed before you came along, maybe even felt up a little bit, but nothing beyond that. In all honesty, a part of him is glad to have been spared the awkward adolescent groping and vulgar attempts at playing grown-up, because now he's been able to share all of these amatory encounters with you.

"I want this. I want you." Spencer reiterates as you haven't made any next moves yet.

"I want you too, baby. I just have one more question." You say softly, brushing a wispy hair out of his face before cupping his cheek.

"And what's that?" Reid asks, unable to help smiling as you gaze at him adoringly.

"Do you want me to put a condom on you, or are you okay without one?" You ask, the words sounding a bit more clinical than you'd like. But it's a fair question.

"I-I dunno. Should I?" His brow furrows, unsure how to go about this. He's aware you're on the pill, though that statistically isn't 100% effective. And he may be a virgin, but he's aware of the mess sex can make, and it might spare a bit of cleanup afterwards. He's getting stuck on it now, pondering inside his head as you play with the foil wrapper between your fingers.

You giggle at his momentary trance, shaking your head. "It's only if you want to, Spence. It's not exactly a life-altering decision."

"That's not true. You could still end up pregnant." Spencer retorts, about to rattle off statistics at you about just how many children were born to parents who assumed oral contraceptives were enough. You put a finger over his mouth to stop him, and he sighs when he realizes how intense he's getting about this. He gently moves your hand away, speaking again. "I'm sorry, I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. It's sweet that you're so concerned." You reassure him, giving him a soft kiss. He hums into you, allowing your tongue to slip into his mouth for a moment. You pull away shortly after, taking his breath with you. With your lips still brushing against his, you meet his dizzied gaze. "I only ask, because I want your first time to be extra special. And it'll feel so much better if you fuck me without a condom on." You say seductively, making his pupils dilate with lust.

"Actually, studies show that there's little to no difference in sensat-" Reid's gargantuan mind starts up again, leaving you no choice but to cut him off by taking his cock in your grasp. "-fuck." He mutters, losing his train of thought entirely, his eyes flicking down to look at the scene between his legs. His stiff, ample length throbs in your hand, pearly beads of precum dripping down the side as you lazily stroke him.

"Baby, look at me..." You purr, drawing his gaze to you. "I'm gonna ask you again. All I need is a 'yes; or 'no', okay?" You wait for him to give an understanding nod. He does, as well as letting out one of the filthiest little moans you've ever heard. "Do you want to wear a condom?" You ask, letting his dick fall from your hand for a moment. He whines at the loss, the sound sending a flare of arousal between your legs.

"No. I want to feel you. All of you. Please." Spencer begs, and you could just about melt at the pitchy whimper in his voice. You've noticed he grows rather needy in bed, and it doesn't take much to rile him up. The way he takes everything you give him like a precious gift is so goddamn intoxicating.

"So do I, Spence." You say with a smile, one he mirrors. "Is this position okay? We can do it any way you want."

"This is fine, makes me feel close to you." Reid says sweetly, squeezing your hips a little.

"You wanna warm me up a little bit first?" You ask, longing to feel his touch.

"Of course." He nods, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Spencer always starts with a kiss, no matter what it is you end up doing. It's really romantic, and makes your knees weak every time. You let him lead, allowing his tongue to dominate yours in a fervent dance. His hand leaves your waist, trailing along your supple skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His long fingers brush past your inner thighs, reaching their intended destination without him having to look. He rubs slow circles on your clit, making you moan against his mouth. It doesn't take long for him to venture further, slipping two fingers inside your drenched cunt.

"Fuck, Spence." You moan aloud, the way his fingertips can reach your g-spot so quickly and easily takes you by surprise every time. You grab hold of his cock again, mainly holding it to keep him ready. Although, the sounds you're making and how wet you are seem to be doing that job just fine. The air of the room heats up, growing thinner as the seconds pass. Unabashed moans escape the two of you as you work each other up, building towards the one thing you've both desired for so long. "I'm ready when you are." You say breathlessly, eager to finally feel Spencer inside of you.

"O-Okay." He stutters, nodding his head enthusiastically. He pulls his fingers out of your cunt, bringing them to his lips. He sucks them clean, moaning at the taste of you. "Mm."

"Dirty boy." You tease, making a deep blush bloom wildly across his cheeks. You start to stroke him again, very slowly. You get up on your knees to position yourself over him.

He watches your every move, unable to say a word. It's finally happening. He's going to have sex. With you. Reid feels like a silly teenager with all these thoughts running through his head, but they all fall away the second you bring the tip of his cock to glide through your folds. You share a moan at the sensation, gazing at one another with parted mouths. Hearts pounding in anticipation, breath stolen from your lungs, arousal leaking from you both and mixing together in the indescribable friction. Spencer could cum just like this if he isn't careful.

"Ready?" You ask one final time, just to be absolutely sure that he wants this.

"Yes." Reid nods, trying to keep himself from squirming. You feel so good, and he's not even inside you yet. He's certain he won't last long, but you've already told him a hundred times that it won't be a problem.

You don't waste anymore time, holding his cock at your entrance and gradually sinking down onto him. "Fuck, Spence. You're so big." You moan as he splits you open. He's a bit larger than you've had before, and it's been quite some time since you've done this, so every inch is deliciously stuffing you full.

Reid, on the other hand, has gone completely mute. His mind has stopped working, and all he can do is grip onto your hips with all the strength he has without hurting you. You're absolute heaven inside, if he believed in such a thing. So hot, and slick, and snug, squeezing around his dick perfectly. He finally understands what all the fuss is about. He could just about cry from happiness in this moment. Once you're fully seated on him, your walls constrict out of reflex, which appears to get Spencer's sex-addled brain working again. "Oh, my...fuck- I, um, wow..." He babbles, unsure what to do with himself. His hands fidget at your sides aimlessly, and his expression twists and bends in all manner of ways as he attempts to get a grip on one singular thought.

"Shh, look at me, Spencer." You coo to him, leading his chin with your finger. He meets your eyes, though his own desperately want to roll back into his fucking skull. "That's it, baby. Just breathe, alright? Nice and slow, 'kay?" You guide him through the initial shock, nodding together slowly as he takes deep breaths. "There you go. I'm gonna start moving now, okay? Don't worry if you cum early, and just tell me if you need me to stop." You say softly, keeping things light and low-pressure. The last thing you need is him worrying about his performance.

"Okay." He breathes, chest shuddering as you start to ride him. You lift yourself up, almost letting him fall out altogether, and come back down at the same pace. You do this a few more times, gradually picking up a bit of speed.

"That feel good, baby?" You ask him, rolling your hips as you set a steady rhythm.

"Yeah, so fucking good." Spencer huffs, feeling close already. But he puts that out of his mind, focusing instead on enjoying this with you. "Do you feel good?" He asks, needing more than your vulgar moans as confirmation.

"So good, Spence. You fill me up so well, I'm so fucking wet for you." You admit these lewd thoughts to him, no stranger to being vocal during intimacy with him. Reid enjoys it immensely, adding words to the actions just makes everything astoundingly better. "Tell me how it feels to fuck me, Spencer." You say through a moan, riding him a little bit faster now.

Spencer groans at your increased speed, doing his best to hold back his orgasm. "I-It's exactly what I'd always hoped it would be." He starts. "I can hardly find the words to describe how much I'm enjoying this right now. You've blown my mind to pieces with this perfect fucking pussy." His grip on your waist grows rougher, taking you by surprise. He's following his instincts, leading you with his hands as you bounce on his cock. His assistance punctuates every landing you make, your noises growing louder as pleasure builds inside you. "I can feel you making a mess all over me, fucking soaked." He says, marveling at the drenched patch on his crotch. Your arousal glistens in the light as it's caught on his coarse hair and pale skin. "It drives me crazy to know you're loving this just as much as I am."

"I am, baby. You're so deep, hitting all the right places inside me." You say, speeding up a bit more. Spencer's hands migrate to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly as he continues to keep up with you. You're surprised he's lasted this long, oddly proud of him for doing so.

"Fuck, you're incredible." Spencer groans, getting dangerously close to the edge again. He'd tell you to slow down, but everything feels too good to stop. Instead, he tries to drag you down with him, starting with diving face first into your tits. His mouth nips and sucks at your flesh wildly, struggling to land where he wants with your ceaseless bouncing. The noises he makes are borderline animalistic, groaning and grunting against your chest.

"Jesus, Spence!" You can't help letting out a breathless laugh at his urgency, picking up on the fact that his end is closer than your own. "You wanna try to help me out?" You offer, eager to feel him take some of the control. He doesn't say anything, just nods and makes an unintelligible sound at you. He thrusts his hips up, following what his primal urges are telling him to do. It appears to be working, given the shocked gasp that leaves your lungs at his effort. He keeps doing it, his mind turning to mush more and more as he fucks into your cunt to meet you halfway. "Oh my god! Yeah, keep doing that." You pant the words out, clinging to him by the shoulders.

Reid grins against your flesh, still biting and suckling while he pounds into you over and over. He's doing it, he's really doing it. He's keeping control of himself, he's going to make it. "Feel so fuckin' good, gonna make you cum, gonna make you scream, I promise...promise, promise..." Spencer murmurs to you, vowing to not give up, even though his balls are screaming for release right now. He has to get you there, if it's the last thing he'll ever do. "Such a perfect pussy, so good for me, so, so wet, fuck-" He groans when your walls constrict around him a bit, almost making him blow his load entirely.

"Don't stop, baby, you can do it, fuck me, make me cum, please, Spence..." You plead as your orgasm builds near the point of toppling over. His filthy mouth and feral actions have set you on fire from the inside out. You knew sleeping with Spencer would be special, and intense. But this is an entirely new level. His craving of you has blocked out all else, leaving him only with the mission to chase release. His, and your own.

"Oh, god, lay down, lay down, I'm gonna cum, gonna cum..." Spencer babbles, attempting to push you over onto your back. You follow his lead, his cock still sheathed inside you as you let him lead you where he wants. As soon as your body hits the mattress, he proceeds to ram himself into you as hard and as fast as he can.

"Fuck! Spencer!" You cry out as he hits an entirely new angle inside you, your ass resting over his knees as he thrusts forward. His hands grip your hips so hard, sure to leave dark bruises once he's through with you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna fill you up, gonna cum deep inside this pussy..." Reid grunts, sweat slicking him down, stomach clenching as he's about lose it.

"Keep going, baby. Don't stop, I'm almost there. Cum for me." You whine as his cock slams into you again and again.

"Fuck!" He nearly shouts when he finally feels it, his balls tightening, bliss washing over him, his hips stuttering as he fills you with thick ropes of white.

All you can do is bear witness as Spencer cums, harder than he ever has in his life. His brows knit together, mouth falling open as he moans so fucking loud. He keeps slamming his cock into you, hoping to pull you down alongside him. Feeling his load spill inside of you, as well as his desperate thrusts sends you tumbling over the edge. "Oh, god! Spencer!" You cry as your orgasm rips through you mercilessly. Your pussy clenches down on Reid's spent length, making him gasp as he keeps thrusting to get you off. You thighs shake violently, stars blurring your vision, hands clawing at the sheets beneath you. It's the most beautiful thing Spencer has ever seen.

You both slowly come down from your high, soaked in sweat and totally spent. Spencer carefully pulls out of you, though you still wince a little. "You okay?" He asks, noting your discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit worn out." You laugh lightly, crawling over to the right end of the bed to lie down. Spencer joins you, pulling the covers over you both and taking you into his arms.

"Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me." He says, a little embarrassed for losing control the way he did.

"It's okay, baby. More than okay, actually." You reassure him once again, stroking his damp face with your thumb. "I'm surprised you had it in you." You chuckle, and he does, too.

"So am I. I guess you...bring it out in me." He explains, and you nod in understanding.

"And I take that as a compliment." You say with a sleepy smile. "Did you have enjoy yourself?" You ask.

"Very much. Even more than I thought I would." Spencer says earnestly, making your heart skip a beat.

"Me too, Spence. And I'm so happy you chose me to enjoy this with." You reply, leaning in to give him a tender kiss. This night has been the best one of your lives (so far), and you look forward to sharing many more moments just like this one in the future. Together.

[emeraldserenade]

I was thinking of an idea for a story. Joaquin and his girlfriend visit his abuela in Miami and it’s his girlfriend’s first time meeting his abuela. His abuela shares stories about her late husband and their love. Joaquin is wanting to propose and thinks it might be time ❤️

Proposals ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín proposes without thinking

tw: fem!reader, slightly insecure Joaquín, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi, Sid!! Joaquín would totally just propose because his mouth moved faster than his brain!! I might add this to another story I plan to write eventually!!

➽──────────────❥

You and Joaquín had been together for almost three years, you were perfectly ok with the fact that Joaquín hadn't proposed yet. Your friends always told you that it was a red flag that he hadn't proposed, but you just stared at them. "I think you're too used to people being together for less than a year before marriage. Some people genuinely love each other enough that marriage isn't needed to prove it," you would tell them. Sure, you wanted to wear a ring picked out by Joaquín and have his last name, but you also knew that there was a lot in his life, including Falcon.

You now where on the way to see his abuela, you had yet to meet her in person. You've briefly seen her in some Facetimes but there was no real meeting. You were nervous but according to Joaquín's mom, she was super excited to see you. "She'll love you, angel," Joaquín told you, knowing you were in your head.

"You keep saying that, but what if she doesn't?" You voiced your fears but Joaquín grabbed your thigh with his right hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"My mamá doesn't lie and she said abuela was super excited to see you," Joaquín said with a soft voice and you relaxed.

"Ok, I can do this," you said to yourself and Joaquín nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were sitting on the couch with Joaquín's abuela as she showed you older photos of her and her late husband while telling you stories. "This one was taken after our first date, Felix always said he knew he was going to marry me after that date," she told you and you smiled at her, your eyes focused on the picture. Joaquín was sitting on a chair across the room, his eyes trained on you. The way your eyes would light up with every story and how his abuela seemed to take an instant liking to you. Joaquín had thought about marrying you since meeting you, but he also knew that being Falcon made it harder for you. He was just constantly waiting for you to break things off with him, but watching you with his abuela, seeing how you loved his family like your own, squashed all fears.

"Marry me!" Joaquín blurted out and you whipped your head up at him. His mom entered from the laundry room and his abuela was staring him down, the three scariest women he knew were all staring at him. "Wait!" Joaquín rushed to his bag and pulled out a ring box, falling to one knee in front of the couch in front of you. "I have a ring, I've had it for a while but I was worried that you wouldn't say yes. I was worried that you were going leave me because of my job, but you've proven time and time again that you aren't. Watching you with my family, how you love them like your own, really solidified it for me. So will you marry me? Please?"

"I," you pushed the ring away and threw yourself into Joaquín's arms. "Yes!" You laughed and both his mom and abuela smiled at the exchange in front of them. A kiss was shared between you two before Joaquín slipped the ring on your finger before you celebrated with Joaquín's family.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

he keeps on loving me (and i keep on wondering why)

Prompt: Proposal | Word Count: 3503 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: AU, Established Steddie, Rural Living, Corroded Coffin Guys, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Living Life Isn't Always Easy, But Loving Each Other Is

Also on ao3 || bonus: mini vid edit

The sun is hot, blisteringly so, and Eddie steps on the edge of the shovel again. Pushing down hard. Digging into the old red dirt that's hidden away under the sod. Twisting, taking another chunk out, before tossing it aside. He'd just gotten the grass looking green instead of brown, at the cost of effort and time, both of which are always in short supply. Now there's gonna be an eyesore of a trench cutting across the yard.

Figures.

Get one step ahead, only to get knocked three steps back. It's all Eddie's ever known.

There's definitely a stoppage, and the rural sewer district insists it's on their side, not the county's, which makes it Eddie's responsibility to fix. 

Wayne borrowed a hand crank snake from a friend at work, and they never even met resistance as they worked it down through the drain, as far as it'd go. The cleanout still running water out indicated the clog wasn't in the house, but somewhere else in the line, so they rented a hundred foot snake to run down the cleanout.

Sure that'd get it.

Still nothing.

For plan C, Wayne helped him mark the main line, suggesting he dig it up, further out. The shittiest proposal Eddie's ever heard.

But Eddie's doing it. Calling a plumber would take time and cost money, and if Wayne thinks they can do it themselves, well, Eddie trusts him. Wayne hasn't steered him wrong yet.

Eddie is getting concerned the longer he finds nothing, but fuck it. If he gets to the road, it's no longer his responsibility. He'd just have to eat the sunk time costs he's expended.

Goodie's supposed to be bringing out a borrowed mini excavator tonight, if he can. It's been hard with their schedules to make it happen, working opposite shifts at the refinery will do that, but it's getting dire. Eddie has started to believe that they only used to have a band. Past tense. With two of them working the night shift, and the other two working days, it's been an exercise in futility to actually get together at all these days, let alone play. Families, kids, work, overdue bills, all means music takes a backseat. Has to.

Eddie has considered pawning his guitar a time or two, but has never quite been able to make himself go through with that last resort option.

Doesn't matter right now. He's got bigger fish to fry, like digging this trench with his own two hands, if he'd like the drains to ever work again. The smell alone is motivation to keep digging. 

That, and he's scared this might actually be the thing that's gross enough to finally send Steve running back to the city. 

Eddie hears the car before he sees it. That's how it works out in the country. It might be Wayne coming back with another shovel, or maybe even Gareth is awake and ready to help. He hopes for Goodie and Jeff, but knows they aren't off work yet. When he catches sight of the BMW crawling along the dirt road, kicking up red dust, Eddie stops and leans against the handle of his shovel, smiling.

Steve. 

The pretty college boy that stayed. 

The boy in the khaki pants, and polo shirts, that hid a wicked smile and angel eyes. He blew into the bar Eddie was working in, sweaty, dirty, after struggling with a flat tire that stranded him. Wanting to borrow the bar phone to call a tow truck.

Eddie could do it better, and faster, himself.

He walked down the block with him, and it was a production. His tire was definitely ruined, and the donut was a little low, but held air when they took it out to the filling station on the edge of town, Steve riding along in Eddie's pickup, face turned towards the window, wind blowing against his face, happy.

Even with the shitty night he'd clearly had.

Tire changed, Steve wouldn't take no for an answer, shoving a wad of cash into his palm. It was more than he'd make in a night, lugging glasses and dirty dishes. 

Eddie told him to go slow, to get a new tire tomorrow, and tapped the roof of the car.

And when Steve pulled away from the curb in that shiny BMW, Eddie assumed he'd never see him again. 

But then he just kept coming back.

Steve was charmed by Eddie, for some goddamn reason Eddie will never understand, not fully. With a wallet full of money, and no real responsibilities other than getting his ass to classes on time. All Eddie's ever had were responsibilities beyond his years. Steve would have been easy to hate, if he hadn't been so…Steve. Gorgeous, funny, but tinged with just a little bit of sadness that only seemed to lift once he was sure Eddie wasn't annoyed by him coming and hanging out. 

Driving out from the nearby college town to sit in a dingy, small town bar, just to be entertained by the barback that always got less work done on the nights he turned up.

He always seemed kind of lost, until Eddie was the lucky bystander that found him. 

Steve's never divulged much about home, about his life back in Indiana, about his parents. He talks about them, sometimes, but says nothing. Eddie feels like he almost doesn't know any more about Steve's family today than he did that first night. Eddie's sure he came from a silver spoon, golden rule, private school, never missed Sunday church, good upstanding family.

But for some reason, he took a shine to Eddie. The blue collar, low dollar, out here where concrete meets old red dirt barback that didn't run him off the second he came back to the bar to do homework. Like the college library wouldn't have been a better place for that. But he kept coming back on nights Eddie worked, and Steve worked hard to charm him, like he didn't have it backwards. Eddie needed to chase him, not the other way around.

When he kissed Eddie for the first time, Eddie didn't expect more than a night or two. To maybe be his dirty little secret, while Steve publicly courted some rich college girl he'd go on to marry. 

But that's not Steve Harrington. 

No, Steve loves who he loves, and is loyal to a goddamn fault when he's loved back. Even when it meant he got cut off from all that old money. He acted like it didn't matter. Like a cushion of generational wealth wouldn't have made his life exponentially easier. He still stayed. 

And has kept staying. 

Steve could have anyone, anywhere, but he's chosen Eddie. He's chosen to make his home here in this little inherited farmhouse, with Wayne in his trailer just up the road. 

He's chosen to work a job that he's overqualified for, and underpaid to do, just so he can live with Eddie in a house where all the drains are backing up into each other. Not even complaining about standing in the slow to drain shower water while Eddie figures it out.

It sure doesn't add up on paper, that's for damn sure, that Steve keeps on loving him, while Eddie keeps wondering why. Questioning why Steve Harrington is his biggest fan, his partner. 

His love. 

It doesn't make a lick of sense.

Steve wears his heart on his sleeve, except for when talking about home, no matter how many times Eddie has tried to pry. He just says his parents are out of the country, probably. No reason to go home to an empty house.

They might not stay in one place, but Steve definitely has, stepping out of that fancy car, hanging onto the door frame as he gives a little wave at Eddie, "Still no luck?" 

"Not yet," Eddie admits. His hands hurt. He can't stop for long, or he won't want to start again. It's always easier to keep doing the thing that hurts, rather than stop and then have to get going again. Wayne taught him that.

Steve slams his car door, disappears in the house. When he reappears, he's in old jeans, and a well-worn t-shirt. Holes around the neck, and sleeves. And one that seems strategic around his belly button.

Eddie smiles, taking him in.

"Let me take a turn," Steve says, stepping down into the trench Eddie's been digging. Straddling the exposed sewer line. Eddie wonders what Steve's parents would think if they could see him. Their perfect boy, digging ditches, by choice. That he'd rather do that with Eddie than go home.

He could work for his dad, in some fancy office building that most likely wouldn't smell like literal shit.

But Eddie tells him where to dig, how deep, and lets him get involved in the project. Let's him pull his weight, as Steve'd say. That's important to him, even if it's not to Eddie. 

They take turns digging until reinforcements arrive.

Eddie and Gareth take off a night from the refinery that they can't really afford. It's dark when Eddie crawls up into the bed of Wayne's truck and then helps pull Gareth up, careful of Gareth's bum knee. It's getting worse by the day, even Gareth is pretending it isn't.

Once up there, both of them hold spotlights for Goodie and Jeff to see what they're doing. Night digging isn't ideal, especially not the night before Goodie's wedding. But it's the only evening they've all had time off at the same time. They have to make due, life demands it.

Goodie's twenty-eight, which is nearly ancient to get married around these parts. Jeff and Gareth both got married right out of high school, it's just what's done. Not Goodie, though. He took his sweet time. He's just lucky Mel was patient enough to wait on his sorry ass.

Eddie razzes him about being last, about being scared to commit, but Goodie snaps back that no he's not last, Eddie's last. 

Which is true. He supposes. He wasn't counting himself.

He's not scared to commit to Steve. He's already committed. Besotted. Wrapped around Steve's little finger, and happy about it. Knows he won the goddamn lottery, all for the price of changing a flat tire. Something he'd have done for anybody. 

Steve wasn't anybody, though.

And when he wanted to stay, Eddie took the refinery job that he'd been avoiding like the plague, just to make ends meet a little bit easier. Wayne getting him hired on — no muss, no fuss.

Now, Jeff's guiding Goodie along in the dark as he claws the excavator into the yard. Careful not to go too deep. They don't want to make the problem worse. Pulling away dirt, and grass. Not the sewer line itself.

They find it. Smell it. A tree root that's grown far — far enough that Eddie never suspected the goddamn tree of burrowing through the pipe, creating this mess of a problem. At least they know what they need to do to fix it, now. That's better than not knowing.

It's two in the morning, and they scrub their hands with Lava soap at the outside hydrant as Mel, Carla and Di unpack food on the tailgate. Di with a sleeping baby strapped to her chest. The newest one. The other older kids, a mix of Gareth's and Jeff's, are all sleeping in the backseats of the cars. 

Eddie bites into a fried pork chop, holding it by the bone. It feels like it did when they were teenagers, hauling hay for a nickel a bale. Sweating their asses off, eating lunch out in the fields, covered glass dishes of homemade fried chicken or whatever else the wives of the farmers they'd been hired by had made for them. It was always good, but often sat heavy in their guts in the summer sun.

Tonight though, it's dark, and cool enough to actually be pleasant. They sit around and eat off paper plates, talking, all together for the first time in a long time. Like there's not a wedding they'll all be at later this afternoon. Like they shouldn't all be home, getting their beauty sleep.

But they don't take these opportunities for granted, they are few and far between, circumstances be damned.

Steve doesn't cook, not really, claims he never learned how. Eddie likes to imagine he had personal chefs and butlers attending to his every whim, and that's how he showed up here, not knowing how to boil water. He just never had to learn. 

Because his life had been easier, which Eddie is grateful about, honestly. He loves Steve too much to wish his own childhood on him. 

He wouldn't want him to be like the little Eddie that had to pull a chair up to the stove when he was too short to reach, just to heat up a can of Spaghetti-Os while Wayne was at work. He was a latchkey kid after his mother's death. He'd ride the bus home alone, the last kid off, and let himself in with the key around his neck, alone. Where he'd stay until seven, when Wayne got home work. Tired, worn out, but still happy to see Eddie it always seemed. Ready to hear about his day. In return, Eddie learned to be responsible. To not burn the house down. To be good.

To brush his teeth without being told, and to lock the doors and go on to bed on time on nights that overtime kept Wayne away longer. 

Eddie minded, because he couldn't afford to lose Wayne, too. 

He knows now, that was never gonna happen. But at seven, it sure seemed like a pressing concern.

But Steve didn't live that life, and Eddie's shown him how to do things. He can change a tire now. And now he can dig out a sewer line. He can also make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and boxed macaroni and cheese that's only sometimes over or under-cooked. And that's what he's made tonight. Nobody complains, just eats the potluck of food, eyes drooping. Bone tired like they always are.

Everybody else finally heads home, ready to crash. When Eddie stumbles into the house to shower before bed, he doesn't take the now fully draining shower for granted. Not tonight, not ever.

Eddie's appreciative that Steve made them anything tonight. He definitely didn't need to, he'd made a lot of headway digging before the heavy machinery arrived. Steve's tough as nails, made of hardy stock, even if he doesn't always look like it. Eddie likes to imagine Steve hauling hay. Perhaps shirtless, glistening in the sun as he tossed bales like they weighed nothing. Eddie would have got nothing done if Steve had been there to gawk at, that's for sure. It was much easier to work alongside Goodie bitching, Jeff making him do it anyway, and Gareth struggling with the hooks.

With the water hitting his face, and then disappearing down the drain like it should, Eddie is relieved that it's fixed. Even if they had to do it after dark, under spotlights. 

Steve's standing in the kitchen, wearing his glasses, hair a mess after air drying. But he's pouring two mugs of what he calls nighty night tea as Eddie slides into a mismatched vinyl chair at the kitchen table.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, picking up his mug. Mindful of the forming blisters on his hands. They're gonna hurt.

In bed, Steve slings his leg over Eddie's, just so they can touch. They both needed to be asleep hours ago. They have a big day tomorrow. 

In the morning Eddie knows Steve will dress to match him, he's seen him do it before, as to not overdress for events out here in the sticks. Weddings out here aren't like he's used to back home, Eddie's sure. No black tie. No sit-down dinner. Just cake and punch and cream cheese mints in a church hall basement. 

Afterwards, they'll all go out for beers at the bar. 

Wedding over, Steve dances with Di, spinning her across the small bar dance floor, her best dress twirling out, as she laughs. 

Eddie watches, smiling. 

They love Steve as much as Eddie does. Steve might not have grown up here, not like them, but he fits in, did from the jump, honestly. Once they got past his stuffy clothes, and that over shellacked helmet of hair he's grown out longer, softer and let get messy and messier over the years. 

He's learned to two-step since he's been here, and the wives are all over him because of it. There's a gracefulness to him that none of the rest of them can replicate. It's natural to him. Innate. A fluidity that Eddie assumes only money can buy. 

Steve's definitely tipsy, and edging towards drunk. Eddie can tell just by looking at him. He's laughing, having the best time, Di happily along for the ride.

Gareth isn't looking at them, his head is down on the bar, leg up on Eddie's thigh. Propping that knee up. Not even the shots tonight haven't helped. His knee is fucked, and they're gonna have to do something. Sooner rather than later.

"I can't drum with no knee," Gareth declares, head on his arms. 

Well, that's true. But that's the least of their concerns. He can't feed his kids if he can't work, and that's a little more pressing. 

Eddie rests his hand on Gareth's calf, rubbing it softly. Steve said he will call in a favor, and Eddie doesn't know what that means. Not exactly. He asked if his dad, or mom, is a doctor and Steve just laughed, so he assumes not. 

Whatever trick he has up his sleeve, they'll take it. 

"We're gonna get it fixed, don't worry," Eddie tells him, but worry is all they do around here. 

The night is winding down. Last call. The bride and groom, long gone. 

Eddie settles up their tab. When he goes to collect Steve, he's grinning. 

"What?" Eddie asks, unable to keep from smiling back. 

"You ever gonna marry me?" Steve asks, a happy drunk, leaning too close to Eddie's face.

Eddie swallows. Well, for one, they can't. Not legally. And for another, he had no idea Steve wanted that. That he's been waiting. It's the best proposal he's ever heard.

"Is that what you want?" Eddie asks, putting his hands on Steve's hips, holding him steady. "You could do better, you know?"

"Pfft, never," Steve slurs, pouting out his lower lip. "Duh, 'course I want you to marry me. Because you love me."

Eddie laughs, patting his hip.

"I do love you, sweetheart. And I'll marry you. Just tell me a time and place."

The grin Steve gives him is blinding, but still slightly wicked. Eddie's not even sure he'll remember this tomorrow. Still, Eddie'll take the proposal for the earnest wish that it is, at least in this moment. 

He knows Steve loves him, and only god knows why, because Eddie sure as hell doesn't.

In the morning, Steve's hungover at the table, eyes closed, black coffee steaming in his mug. Oh, it's bad if he hasn't diluted it with ungodly amounts of cream and sugar yet.

"Mornin'," Eddie says quietly, sure Steve's got a pounding headache. He's not about to make it worse by being too loud.

Steve tilts his head backwards, opening his eyes, "In the yard, here at home, after the grass grows back."

"What's that?" Eddie asks, pouring his own cup of coffee.

"Where and when I want to get married. I'm telling you," Steve clarifies and Eddie grins to himself, back still turned away from Steve.

When he turns, he flashes a smile Steve's way, "Okay, sweetheart. That's what we'll do," he says, leaning down. Wrapping his arm around Steve's neck, maneuvering him into position to kiss his face, his cheeks, making him laugh before capturing his lips, sealing the deal.

"But for now, I want hangover eggs," Steve demands, and Eddie can do that. He can definitely do that. 

Eddie gets a jar of Wayne's home canned whole tomatoes out of the pantry, and when he's finished, he scoops the tomato and egg mixture onto a plate, next to two slices of toast. Wayne's recipe. He watches as Steve uses the toast to break the first yolk, and smiles. Perfect. Just like Steve.

He drapes both of his arms over Steve's shoulders, down his chest, pressing his face close to Steve's. He's so goddamn lucky. 

Steve Harrington not only wants to marry him, but also said that this house, Eddie's little piece of heaven, his mother's childhood house, his childhood safe haven, is home.

He couldn't ask for more, or better. Steve's it. Everything. And he wants to celebrate their already built life here in this place Eddie has lived most of his. With his mom, before, and then with Wayne, after. 

And now, forever, with Steve. 

Inspired by the song "Wondering Why" by The Red Clay Strays. I also have a little vid edit I made set to the song that inspired this whole idea. It was an earworm that had to be dealt with in fic and video form. It was just screaming to be steddiefied, lol. (Title come from the song, as well.)

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo.

My masterlist for my bingo card can be found here.

[fazmid]

things that became more apparent to me watching in chronological order:

The two scenes where Aziraphale and Crowley shelter each other under their wings are back-to-back. Like I knew this already but seeing them one after another hurts

When they meet at Noah's Ark, Crowley expresses disbelief that God would kill kids and says it sounds like something his side would do. The next time they meet (as far as we know) is the Book of Job. Interesting that Aziraphale is still in denial that God would actually kill children, when Crowley is already very aware and has a plan in place to only go along as far as he can.

Aziraphale's line about tempting Crowley to oysters in Rome is funny after the ox rib temptation in the Book of Job. They have a bit going at this point

When Aziraphale firsts rejects The Arrangement in the Middle Ages because it would be lying, it was already funny bc we already knew he'd lied to God about his sword, but now we know he's also lied to all the archangels about Job's children. lmao

In the French revolution scene, Crowley warns Aziraphale that no one can know he saved an angel because his "lot don't send rude notes". Next time they meet (as far as we know) is the resurrectionists storyline where Crowley gets pulled down to Hell for his good deed

As most people have already observed and I'm just repeating, when Crowley requests holy water from Aziraphale, it's after he was dragged down to Hell for preventing Elspeth's suicide and Aziraphale had not seen him for a while. Whatever happened clearly made him want that insurance

Aziraphale learned the Gavotte during their holy water request divorce

Aziraphale also got his gun licence (and possibly his derringer) during the divorce. Licenses were required to carry a gun in Britain starting in 1870, and licenses were required to buy firearms after 1903. Self-defence for me but not for thee lol

Aziraphale telling Crowley that he goes too fast for him after everything that happened in 1941 makes me ill. Aziraphale clearly fell in love has a revelation about their relationship and trusts Crowley to shoot a gun past his ear but he also got another reminder of how much danger they - and especially Crowley - are in just by being caught being friends. Anything else is still too fast

friend, innocently: it would be kind of interesting to watch all the aziraphale and crowley historical flashbacks in chronological order with the S2 scenes added me, naively: oh I have the all the episodes it shouldn't take that much time to throw something rough together for curiosity's sake my video editing program, now: *rendering a 1 hour and 45 minute-long feature film*

[novella-november]

See, here's the thing about generative AI:

I will always, always prefer to read the beginner works of a young writer that could use some editing advice, over anything a predictive text generator can spit out no matter how high of a "quality" it spits out.

I will always be more interested in reading a fanfiction or original story written by a kid who doesn't know you're meant to separate different dialogues into their own paragraphs, over anything a generative ai creates.

I will happily read a story where dialogue isn't always capitalized and has some grammar mistakes that was written by a person over anything a computer compiles.

Why?

Because *why should I care about something someone didn't even care enough to write themselves?*

Humans have been storytellers since the dawn of humankind, and while it presents itself in different ways, almost everyone has stories they want to tell, and it takes effort and care and a desire to create to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard or speech to text to actually start writing that story out, let alone share it for others to read!

If a kid writes a story where all the dialogue is crammed in the same paragraph and missing some punctuation, it's because they're still learning the ropes and are eager to share their imagination with the world even if its not perfect.

If someone gets generative AI to make an entire novel for them, copying and pasting chunks of text into a document as it generates them, then markets that "novel" as being written by a real human person and recruits a bunch of people to leave fake good reviews on the work praising the quality of the book to trick real humans into thinking they're getting a legitimate novel.... Tell me, why on earth would anyone actually want to read that "novel" outside of morbid curiosity?

There's a few people you'll see in the anti-ai tags complaining about "people being dangerously close to saying art is a unique characteristic of the divine human soul" and like...

... Super dramatic wording there to make people sound ridiculous, but yeah, actually, people enjoy art made by humans because humans who make art are sharing their passion with others.

People enjoy art made by animals because it is fascinating and fun to find patterns in the paint left by paw prints or the movements of an elephants trunk.

Before Generative AI became the officially sanctioned "Plagiarism Machine for Billionaires to Avoid Paying Artists while Literally Stealing all those artists works" people enjoyed random computer-generated art because, like animals, it is fascinating and fun to see something so different and alien create something that we can find meaning in.

But now, when Generative AI spits out a work that at first appears to be a veritable masterpiece of art depicting a winged Valkyrie plunging from the skies with a spear held aloft, you know that anything you find beautiful or agreeable in this visual media has been copied from an actual human artist who did not consent or doesn't even know that their art has been fed into the Plagiarism Machine.

Now, when Generative AI spits out a written work featuring fandom-made tropes and concepts like Alpha Beta Omega dyanamics, you know that you favorite fanfiction website(s) have probably all been scraped and that the unpaid labours of passion by millions of people, including minors, have been scraped by the Plagiarism Machine and can now be used to make money for anyone with the time and patience to sit and have the Plagarism Machine generate stories a chunk at a time and then go on to sell those stories to anyone unfortunate enough to fall for the scam,

all while you have no way to remove your works from the existing training data and no way to stop any future works you post be put in, either.

Generative AI wouldn't be a problem if it was exclusively trained on Public Domain works for each country and if it was freely available to anyone in that country (since different countries have different copyright laws)

But its not.

Because Generative AI is made by billionaires who are going around saying "if you posted it on the Internet at any point, it is fair game for us to take and profit off," and anyone looking to make a quick buck can start churning out stolen slop and marketing it online on trusted retailers, including generating extremely dangerous books like foraging guides or how to combine cleaning chemicals for a spotless home, etc.

Generative AI is nothing but the works of actual humans stolen by giant corporations looking for profit, even works that the original creators can't even make money off of themselves, like fanfiction or fanart.

And I will always, always prefer to read "fanfiction written by a 13 year old" over "stolen and mashed together works from Predictive Text with a scifi name slapped on it", because at least the fanfiction by a kid actually has *passion and drive* behind its creation.

[networklovemp3]

3:33am ⏾

joshua x (gn) reader tags: 18+ MDNI, nsfw, not super explicit (m.) masturbation scene, used panties, fluff, silly sweetest of all time shua word count: 1.78k words an: my first time writing and posting something smutty!! please be nice and lmk how it is, i wrote this way too late at night but tried my best to edit it. likes and rbs and any other timestamp thoughts/requests are appreciated! i'd love to write more!! <3

after you both fell asleep earlier than usual, joshua wakes up in the middle of the night, mouth dry and feeling hot everywhere. there's a terrible ache in him, a want, a need, but he looks to his side and sees you're sleeping soundly one pillow over.

sighing a frustrated but quiet breath, joshua knows himself enough to know he won't willingly wake you from your sleep that you desperately needed. instead, he carefully peels himself away from you and the bed, and heads for the bathroom across the room. the door barely clicks shut, one of your night lights glowing on the wall, and he is alone to deal with himself.

joshua thinks about calming himself down so he can just go back to bed. he thinks about distracting himself. he thinks he should have better self control than this. he thinks about taking a cold shower, if only he could without waking you up. he thinks about you. he thinks about you. your warm skin back in bed, the way you snuggled into him before falling asleep, one of his t-shirts hanging off your shoulders... fuck.

so maybe the self control thing isn't working for him. he might as well get this over with as quickly as possible before you wake up and start to wonder where he is. he's already reached past his boxers and has one hand on himself, the other white-knuckled on the counter, when he spots the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom.

he knows it's kind of gross, and probably disrespectful on some level, but before his blood can reach his brain to think it through joshua has your silky blue underwear in his hand and then wrapped around himself. it's so cooling and soft and smells like you and... oh. he presses his lips together to contain the noises that wish to escape and squeezes his eyes closed so tight they almost hurt.

it feels so, so good and he was already so pent up that the race ends almost as quickly as it starts, finishing all over the blue fabric as he fights for any sense of control. after his muscles start to relax, joshua allows himself a minute to control his breathing and to clean himself off, then he's rushing to get back into bed with you. he slips under the covers, this time wrapping himself against your back with much more relief settled into his bones.

"...shua?" he hears you murmur and his heart stutters with a brief flash of irrational panic. "i'm sorry, baby, did i wake you?" joshua places a soft kiss on your neck, trying to calm himself down. you sigh at the sweet brush of his lips, turning around to blearily blink up at him once, twice, three times. "no, just felt you coming back to bed," you whisper back to him. he presses another kiss to your forehead, and one on your nose, and you smile up at him so warmly.

you're placing your head back on his chest and sliding your hand innocently down his bare waist and across his stomach when joshua catches his breath involuntarily, still sensitive enough from moments ago when your fingers glide just above his waistband. suddenly, your eyes are shooting back up at him with an accusatory and confused look. "what did you do?" you ask, and joshua closes his eyes for a moment.

"i..."

"you just jerked off, didn't you!" you breath out all at once. "how could you possible know that!" joshua stares back at you in shock, doe eyes wide in the dark. "i know you only jump in your skin like that when i touch you after you've just finished," you roll your eyes knowingly, "now why did you do it without me?"

"i didn't want to wake you, you were so tired earlier. i just took care of it quickly by myself." he explains gently, but you still pout up at him. "i wouldn't have cared, shua, seriously, you can just wake me up next time. i wish you had." you place your hands gently on his shoulders. "oh... do you want me to....?" misunderstanding you, his eyes trail downwards meaningfully, with that concerned crease you love between his scrunched eyebrows.

"no, joshua, not right now," you sigh in affectionate exasperation, "sometimes... sometimes, i just want the opportunity to please you."

"you do please me though, like, all the time?" he blinks at you, still in confusion. "i know, i just mean... i mean pleasing you and that's it. sometimes i just want my boyfriend's dick in my mouth and that's all!" breathing out the last part all at once, you realize you had been keeping that thought in for quite a while. after all, you really do enjoy pleasing him.

"oh, um, i.... didn't know that's something you wanted," joshua looks utterly taken aback that you'd been wanting that, and that he has played a part in keeping it from you. after a pause, he smiles a slow, sinister smile down at you. "i think we can manage to arrange that in the future though, if it's what you really want."

you smile back at him and nod, feeling pleased to be on the same page finally. he pulls you close to him again and you both melt back into a comfortable, if slightly charged, silence. it doesn't last long before you think of something else.

"were you thinking of me, before, in the bathroom?" you whisper shyly into the base of his neck. you can tell he's smiling when he responds, "yes, of course. i'm always thinking of you. actually... i might've used your panties to help me out too."

the gasp you let out is playful, and you try to pull back to look at him again but he stops you in his tight hold. "i didn't know you were dirty like that, shua!" you tease, and joshua can feel his ears are turning cherry red. "you don't think it's kind of... weird and gross?"

"no, to be honest, it's kind of really hot... maybe along with my idea you should let me watch sometime..." you trail off in thought, and joshua lets out a strangled groan above you as if you physically harmed him.

before you know it, the entire conversation is being laughed off with many future acts in mind, and the two of you slip back into sleep before the sun rises.

[chiaraanatra]

Half-Truths

Summary: After swearing off Kooks, JJ falls for the Wreck's new waitress. (Based on this request)

Warnings: characters are 18+, talks of infidelity (not from reader or JJ), swearing, suggestive language and content but no smut, kissing, a little hurt but mostly fluff, use of "I love you," pet names (princess, baby, beautiful), Rafe being an asshole, reference to underage drinking. Kinda sorta edited.

WC: 2.4k

AN: @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account It's no joke! After months its finally here! I'm so sorry this took so long to post! I hope you like it!!

《 m.list || ao3 》

JJ wasn't one for relationships.

He and John B. always joked that he had a high catch and release rate. Reel a girl in, have your fun, and take off before anything serious could happen.

And it worked. JJ could have his fun and not be forced to dive into any of that emotional shit. All the fun, none of the complicated.

However, the system wasn’t perfect.

When emotions weren’t involved but alcohol and weed were, details tended to fall through the cracks. Details like ‘I’m actually dating a Kook who already hates your guts.’

In all fairness, JJ didn’t know the girl he picked up at the Boneyard was Kelce's girlfriend until they were putting on their respective clothing and she mentioned the ‘small’ detail in passing.

She promised that she wouldn’t tell a soul as to not tarnish her own reputation, but things never quite work out the way you’d hope.

All of that led to his current position: sitting at the bar of the Wreak with a bag of frozen peas on his face, waiting for a basket of French fries that he hoped would lift his mood and for Kie’s shift to end.

His mood brightened slightly when the shift change brought more than he had hoped for. You walked behind the bar, throwing on your apron and name tag before grabbing the steaming basket of fries off the counter and placing it on the bar in front of him.

You tilted your head, no doubt noticing the purple and blue that marred his face. He placed the bag of peas down on the bar and looked at you, taking you in, the throbbing in his face long forgotten. "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy’s fist." His tone was cocky and despite the pain, he flashed you a smile.

You brought your hand up to your face trying to cover a growing smile and hold in a laugh. JJ couldn't help but wonder what other faces he could have you making.

"But enough about me." he grabbed a frie from the basket and pointed it at you, "Wha's your name, pretty girl?"

You shook your head, "Well, don't you bounce back quick?"

"Eh," JJ shrugged, "Not the first time and it won't be the last. Now bout that name?"

Before you could reply, you heard the kitchen doors open, followed by a very angry Kie rolling up to the counter. "The hell, JJ?!"

You couldn't help but be a little shocked never seeing your new coworker so worked up. She wasted no time dragging JJ towards the back of the restaurant, caring little for his reply.

He leaned back attempting to get another glance of you behind the bar, "The new waitress is cute."

Kie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You're avoiding the subject, JJ.”

"Ugh okay…” JJ ran his fingers through his messy blonde hair. “You know the girl at the party last weekend? Well, apparently she wasn't as single as she let on... "

"Oh god..." she groaned.

"Yeah, and apparently Kelce isn't fond of sharing..." He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how pissed Kelce looked when confronting him earlier.

Kie's eyes widened at the blonde's words, "You did not…"

“How was I supposed to know?! I can't keep up with every Kook princess and her boyfriend of the week!” The blonde paused taking a breath. “Honestly, I'm swearing off Kooks. I can't take any more of the prissy shit and I don't need Rafe or his goons coming after me every time I 'taint' their property. No more kooks just clueless Tourons who are here one minute and gone the next and cute Pogue girls that know how to have a good time."

Kie lets out a sigh. "You’re disgusting!"

"You know me, here for a good time, not a long time." He gives her a laugh and shrugs.

"Jesus," She shook her head once more, "let me grab my shit and I'll drive you to the Chateau."

JJ made his way back to you leaning over the bar, "you got a pen?"

You gave him a quizzical look before handing him the pen out of your apron.

JJ proceeded to write his number on a napkin and handed it to you, “Text me.”

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, “We’ll see.”

That was a month and a half ago.

It was just a casual thing. At least that’s what JJ told himself.

But the more the two of you hung out, the more he brought you around his friends, and the more he indulged in the way your naked body felt pressed up against his, the less he liked the idea of casual or the possibility of anyone else having you.

You were so real, so down to earth. You worked hard, knew what you wanted, and how to get it. On top of all that, you were drop dead gorgeous.

All things that distracted from the small, still unknown, detail that you were a kook.

You had told yourself you would tell him before things got too serious, but before you knew it you were thrown into the deep end.

Your head rested lazily on JJ's bare chest, both of you still trying to catch your breath.

His blue eyes sparkled with something you couldn't quite name. "Whacha thinking about, handsome."

He bit his lip, contemplating his next words. "I really like you... Like really like you. I don't usually do relationships because they're messy and people get hurt, but I really don't want to be with anyone else and I don't think I could stand seeing you with another guy... so..."

JJ tried willing the words he wanted to say out of his mouth but before he could you said them yourself, "JJ Maybank are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

His tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek as he looked up at the ceiling, “Depends… would you say ‘yes’?”

You giggle, "'m not sure... why don't you ask and find out."

He smiled pulling you up closer so you were inches from his face. "alright beautiful, will you be my girlfriend?"

You looked away, pretending to be deep in thought,  "Hmmm... I don't know..." you looked up to find his face twist with anticipation and you couldn’t help but giggle, “Yes! I would love to be your girlfriend.” You leaned in to kiss him.

"Baby, you will be the death of me..." his lips found yours and refused to leave your skin the rest of that night.

The Wreak was a disaster. 4th of July was next week and the island was already packed with vacationers. You were scrambling taking orders, delivering food, and desperately missing the little sleep you had gotten the night before.

JJ was sat at the bar waiting patiently for you to get off of work after you agreed to stay an extra hour  to help out. Despite the chaos things were moving rather smoothly.

However, all good things come to an end.

The door opened with a chime and you were greeted by the unwelcome sight of Rafe and Topper. It was all you could do but pray that he didn’t notice you.

Rafe had his sights on you the moment you moved to Figure 8. You were the only girl who didn’t fall for his charms and access to the Cameron wealth. Unfortunately for you, rather than causing him to steer clear of you, it only increased his interest.

Rafe turned to find you dropping off a to-go order at the hostess stand. "What the hell are you doing in here, princess?"

You were a few feet from the bar and JJ was about to head over to prevent you from getting harassed by the Kook King himself, but your voice made him pause.

You rolled your eyes "What do you want, Rafe?"

His eyes roamed over your figure. "What's with the waitress get up? There's no way your working here. Lord knows you don't need petty tips when your dad could afford to buy this place out."

What..? JJ was desperate to shake off the comment. Rafe must have the wrong girl. Maybe there's some Kook that looks like you or something?

"Some of us would rather work to make our own way rather than live off of daddy’s money." you tried to walk away but Rafe grabbed your arm.

"Common, Princess.” Rafe leaned closer, “When are you gonna let me take you out?"

You tried to lean out of his grasp to no avail. "Rafe, for what has to be the thousandth time, I have a boyfriend."

"Yeah that filthy Pogue." There was no mistaking the disgust his voice. "You know a pretty Kook like you should stay on her side of the island,” He caressed your arm, despite your efforts to move away from his hold. “And if you were my girl, you would never work a day in your life."

You forcefully yanked your arm out of his grasp, "And that's your problem, Rafe. You know nothing about me.”

You turned to head towards the bar. Your heart sank when you were met with blue eyes filled with hurt. You could feel your heart crack inside your chest. He heard everything.

You didn’t meant to lie to him. Okay, lying was a stretch, but you did hide the truth from him. You had always meant to tell JJ about your ‘kook’ status, despite the stupidity of the island class system, but things happened so quickly and before you knew it things got very real very fast.

You watched as JJ made a beeline for the door. You ran out the door after him, hoping to stop him, and explained yourself. "JJ wait!!" You pushed your way through the sea of people and out the door just in time to watch him ride away on his bike, leaving you in a cloud of dust.

It had been two weeks since the incident at the Wreck. JJ refused to return your texts or answer your calls. Instead, choosing to kick himself for not knowing you were a kook and being pissed that you lied to him.

You never outright said anything about your social standing. You never labeled your self a Pogue but he felt it was a lie of omission.

Regardless, being pissed off faded rather quickly and now he was just sad that you hid part of you from him. Thinking back on it he realized he knew next to nothing about your family or even where you lived.

He was face down on the couch in the chateau living room.

JB and Pope walked in to see him in the same position as he left him the night before, lying on the couch, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Alright this I just getting sad dude," Pope sat on the arm of the couch looking at the blonde.

"Yeah, man." John B grabbed a couple beers from the fridge and tossed on to Pope. "You’ve been moping over this girl for weeks.”

JJ sat up rubbing the 'sleep' from his eyes, “Fuck you, I’m not moping.”

Pope rolled his eyes before, “Dude, you’ve barely left the chateau.” He pulled at the curtain allowing the bright summer sun to stream in. “Look, I know she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her social status, but you know she’s a good person.”

"Yeah, man! Besides dating a Kook isn’t the end of the world,” John B couldn’t help but smile. “So, for the love of anything that might still be holy. Go get her back!”

JJ knew they were right. You were more than just a Kook and he was kicking himself for not seeing past that. He wasted little time calling Kie and asking for your address.

He spent a good 20 minutes pacing the driveway before making his way to the door. He wasn’t even sure if anyone, let alone you, was home.

What if your parents answered? Oh god, that would not be ideal.

“Nut up or shut up, dude,” JJ whispered to himself before ringing the doorbell.

In the minute it took you to get to the door, a million thoughts ran through JJ’s head as he paced back and forth waiting for…

The large green door opened to you standing in comfy clothes. Your eyes were puffy, but you were the same beautiful girl who had refused to leave his head.

You couldn't help being a a little shocked when you opened the door to see the blonde that you had missed so much over the past two weeks. Despite your heart quickening in his presence you refused to look at him, “What do you want JJ…?”

“To apologize… to say I overreacted and that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. That I’m a dumbass and shouldn’t have judged you because of your parents’ tax bracket and the stupid hierarchy of this island.” JJ was dangerously close to rambling, but you didn't look like you were going to speak any time soon.

He really wished you would look at him.

“Look… I don’t expect forgiveness or another chance, but I needed you to know that ‘m sorry.” He put his hands gently on your shoulders, hoping you would look at him rather than run away.

Rather than tense, you relaxed into his touch. “You are a good person, and money doesn’t negate that fact.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I should have told you… But after hearing from Kie that you swore off Kooks, I was scared that you wouldn’t see me for me…”

"None of that matters now." He forward closing the gap between you, “I love you for you.”

“You love me?” Your eyes met his and heat rose into your cheeks.

JJ's head fell back, a small smile gracing his lips, “Fuck, this is not how I wanted that to come out, but yes I love you.”

You were quick to return his words, “I love you too, JJ.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “For richer or poorer.” You let out a giggle as JJ rolled his eyes. He wasted little time lifting you into his arms and kissing you, relishing in the softness of your lips that he has missed so much.

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @daisydark @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @jjsfavgirl

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[dnd-writes]

Trials and Tribulations

AO3

Tags: non-con, BFH, I somehow wrote this in 3 hours, what is 'edit', Jeewon, unnamed OC, forced free use, manipulating, groping, painal

A/N: Saw a Jeewon post on KPF and thought of something to write, laid down and wanted to write a few paragraphs before getting back up to go play or whatever, next thing I know I wrote the whole thing already more or less. Consider this as a spiritual successor to Boulevard of Broken Dreams BUT BUT BUT only in that it has somewhat of a similar premise, it is way way way waaaaay more tame and casual (aside from one painal scene) in terms of detail than BBD. Anyway, enjoy!

Cignature’s manager walks into the room and sees Jeewon just getting off her knees, he sees her bend forward, her butt pushes out towards him putting a smile on his face. She brushes her knees clean of dirt then fixes her skirt. As she turns around towards him, he sees a complete contrast to the clean and clothed look of her ass—her bare chest and face covered in cum. 

He looks over her shoulder and sees a middle-aged businessman on a chair, totally exhausted, one of the company’s investors. “She’s wonderful, isn't she?” says the manager to which the only reply he gets is a nod and two thumbs up. “I’ll be taking her away now.”

Jeewon heads out then the manager catches up with her and gets to her side. He puts a hand on her hip to pull her close to him so he can whisper into her ear. “Have one of the girls go clean you up. Haven’t fucked that ass in quite some time.” He smacks her ass as a signal for her to get going. “Be quick, I’ll be waiting, you know where to find me.”

—————

Yep, that’s Jeewon. You’re probably wondering how she ended in that situation. 

How does an innocent, voluptuous, and cheerful woman suddenly become the company’s cash cow? Well it all started when C9 Entertainment noticed a rather peculiar influx of attention. The attention wasn’t mainly on their sole girl group Cignature but rather it was targeted mostly at the company itself. 

They quickly traced it back to an interview that one Jeewon, one of Cignature’s members, did where the interviewer talked about her body, indirectly referring to her chest which she covered at the time the question was asked. Rather than addressing the situation and protecting their own artist, they instead embraced it. After all, as the saying goes, “Any publicity is good publicity.” Which goes true the more people talk about the clip. 

Now all that was left for C9 Entertainment to do was to capitalize on the attention and they found their solution from none other than the infamous interview itself—Waterbomb, well, a festival similar enough to Waterbomb that is. 

The announcement was controversial enough on its own but it was nothing compared to what Jeewon wore at the event. They put her in a bikini top and gave her a thin white top just to say she wasn’t naked. 

The outrage was massive but not as big as Jeewon’s chest or the Won signs in the company’s eyes. Sure the company received tremendous backlash for the decisions they’ve been making but that was nothing compared to the money coming their way. 

From that day forward, the company’s view of Jeewon has changed and all she is in their eyes is merely a tool they can use to generate views and revenue. While the higher ups used Jeewon’s body for profit, their manager planned to use Jeewon’s body for his pleasure. 

He used to see Jeewon and Cignature as his responsibility, close friends, and possibly even family. But given recent events, his perception of her has changed and after the festival, after seeing Jeewon up close, after seeing her tits jiggle, he has been woken up to just how insanely sexy she is. 

After every practice session or performance the group would do, whenever they finished their manager would be close by to congratulate them. Often he would clap and cheer for them or pat their backs. It gave the members encouragement and energy to keep going, that is, until they realized that his pats on Jeewon progressively got lower and lower until one day he’s just groping her butt in view of everyone else. 

Naturally the members would complain to the other staff but some simply didn’t care while the rest told them to just suck it up and accept it. That, along with some gaslighting and manipulating from the manager, made them keep their mouths shut. And the encouragement they would get turned into fear that the rest of the group would be touched the way Jeewon gets touched. 

Following their silence, he became more shameless in his interactions with Jeewon. He would slap her ass as a greeting any time he comes close to her and often we would hug her from behind like some romantic scene in a K-drama but instead it’s so he can grab her breasts without her leaving. 

He even made some rearrangements to the room assignments at the dorm, moving Jeewon from her room to his. He placed, well more so dumped, her things into his room just to seal the deal. And no, he didn’t have an extra bed so he made her stay with him on his. 

On the first night they were in the room together, as Jeewon was about to go to the bathroom to get changed, the manager blocked the way out and instructed her to get changed in front of him. With no other options and no way out, she was forced to comply. He licked his lips as he saw her in her underwear, it wasn’t quite the full thing just yet but he knows for sure he’s going to get it soon enough. They climbed into bed and he turned her around so he could spoon her and cuddle her like some body pillow, all the while grinding his erection into her butt. 

Morning arrived and everyone had breakfast together, with Jeewon sitting on the manager’s lap of course. As Jeewon was headed to the shower, he stops her and tells her he’s going with her “to save water,” a lie apparent to both of them. Jeewon wanted to say no but before she could even answer he was already pushing her towards the bathroom. The members watched anxiously as they walked together, nothing much they could really do. 

The manager immediately strips down and his cock is standing proud as it pointed towards Jeewon who was visibly disgusted. She turns away from him to quietly cry but not even her feelings had space as the manager was already starting to take her clothes off. He got her down to her underwear when he backed off to let her strip the final pieces herself. 

As Jeewon tantalizingly took her bra off, he would quote the interview back at her, saying that her physique is the best in history and that her body is the talk of the town. Jeewon once again covered her chest with her arm while she was removing her panties. She stood back up with her hands on her privates but the manager just walked up and put her hands at her side then he started feeling her up and played with her chest for a good few minutes. He would compliment her tits and especially her nipples since it’s the first time he’s seen them, maybe the first man ever to see them, then he proceeds to call himself lucky how he has her body all to himself. 

After playing with her body, he suggested that they help each other by cleaning each other while he was stroking his dick, making the innuendo even clearer as if Jeewon didn’t already know what he meant. 

The two stepped into the shower but it was less of a bath and more of Jeewon reluctantly jerking him off while he explored every inch of her exposed body once again. 

He would get increasingly annoyed at how slow Jeewon’s pace was and he decided to drop the subtleties and he pushes down on her shoulders to force her down on her knees. Then he grabbed her tits and trapped his cock between them so that he could start thrusting while Jeewon just knelt there and be used. 

Jeewon kept her eyes and mouth as shut as she could while he ejaculated all over her face. Before she could clean herself off, the manager wiped the cum off her face and collected it in his hand. He forced her to drink it all and retched from the taste. He then told her that she should get used to it because that wouldn’t be the last time she has to drink cum. 

After showering and using up more water than if they bathed separately, the group got ready to go to practice. It went just about as well as how their previous practices went just with some extra groping being received by Jeewon. When they got back to the dorm and the two got into the shower again, Jeewon was ready to get back on her knees but instead she felt herself get turned around. 

Jeewon felt the manager’s tip press against her slit and she froze in fear. He did not care if she was protected or not, a problem he was too horny to deal with at the moment. He pulled her back and held her by her chest as he started thrusting into her pussy. Jeewon just cried silently as she felt herself get more violated than she had already been, especially when she felt his hot cum stirring inside of her pussy. 

The manager got high on fucking Jeewon that he proceeded to do just that and only that for the next few days. He didn’t care how or where he fucked Jeewon or who among the members saw it but the only thing that mattered to him was that either Jeewon’s pussy or mouth was occupied by his cock. 

He would fuck her before and after sleeping. He would make her blow him while he ate food and watched TV. He would fuck her on the dining table forcing the members who were eating there to move elsewhere. He would use her mouth to properly clean him in the shower. And so on. Even when the group had to go practice, he would make the rest go to the company building while Jeewon was kept beneath him in the dorm. While they practiced their next performance, Jeewon was being turned into his sex pet. 

One of the members complained that the manager keeps having sex with Jeewon but much to the group’s dismay, they doubled down and saw an opportunity land at their feet. Why stop at dressing Jeewon so scantily clad in public when they could also use her body behind closed doors to also bring more money in, that way whenever the group isn’t on stage, they can be certain that their wallets are full. 

The manager was furious with what the members did even though the decision made by the company was expected for him but instead of finding out who the culprit was, he decided to just cool down and what better way to do that than to use Jeewon’s possibly untouched asshole for the first time. 

The manager had all the members in the living room and they all sat quietly in fear. He told them how annoyed and disappointed he was in them but he made sure to tell them he won’t scold them for it which gave them some relief for a very brief moment until he grabbed Jeewon by her hair and dragged her into his room. The members cried while they held each other as they listened to Jeewon screaming and begging for help, their hearts broke knowing that they couldn’t help and that they were somehow responsible for subjecting her to even more torment. 

He ripped Jeewon's clothes off while he held her down as she tried to struggle to free herself. Once her shorts were down, instead of feeling the familiar feeling of his tip pressing against her cunt, Jeewon felt his dick press against her asshole which made her scream so loud it echoed throughout the whole dorm. 

He didn’t bother lubing up or anything and he just started going in dry. Jeewon never knew such pain prior to that moment, whether mental or physical, and she screamed her head off through the night, making it known to the members just how much pain she was in and making it hard for them to go to sleep just from the loudness alone. 

From being always at the dorm to being almost never, Jeewon was sold off to investors as if she was some sort of prostitute. Though the manager still had his time with Jeewon, he wasn’t able to have as much action as he used to and naturally he turned to the other members of the group. He would assign a day for each member as if it was a chore to be used by him. The other members were also up for grabs but it was Jeewon who anyone wanted to fuck, not like anyone can blame them. 

From a merely suggestive interview question, spiraled all the way into Jeewon being turned into a cow, both financially and sexually.